' "You look..." "Beautiful, I know. Can we move on?" '
Amidst the shadows of the little town of Charming, this chaotic and dangerous scene steps in Giselle Telford, a woman dead set on escaping the shadows of her past to embrace an uncertain future...
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Night has fallen hard over Charming, the only light spilling from the red-blue strobes of the ambulance.
The paramedics move fast, strapping Chibs onto the gurney, cutting through his kutte and shirt to check for injuries. The blood at his temple makes her stomach twist, but she doesn't flinch.
One of the medics blocks her path as they start to load him in. "Sorry, you can't ride along."
Her eyes snap up, wild. "That's my dad. I'm not leaving him."
"Ma'am, I understand, but we need space to work—"
"Don't call me ma'am, and don't you dare tell me I can't be with him." Her voice breaks into a growl, pure venom. She shoves at the medic's arm, ready to swing if she has to. "Try and stop me, pendejo, and I swear—"
"Enough!" Clay's voice cuts through.
He steps between them, glaring at the medic like he's two seconds away from dragging him out by his collar. "She rides with him. End of story."
The medic hesitates, weighing the fury in Giselle's eyes against the steel in Clay's. Finally, he curses under his breath and steps aside. "Fine. Just don't get in the way."
Giselle doesn't even give him a look.
She climbs into the back, her hand instantly finding her father's, fingers locking tight.
His skin is clammy, pulse weak but steady under her thumb.
She leans closer, whispering so only he can hear: "I'm here dad, I'm not going anywhere."
The doors slam shut, sealing her inside with the harsh white light, the beeping monitors, the smell of antiseptic mixing with iron. The ambulance jerks forward, sirens wailing as they tear down the road toward St. Thomas.
She keeps her eyes locked on the paramedics' hands as they work—oxygen mask secured, IV slipped into his arm, pressure bandage pressed against the gash on his head.
But all she sees is her father, her old man who always walked into chaos with a grin and a smartass comment. Now lying still. Too still.
Her free hand shakes, nails digging into her thigh to keep herself grounded.
She leans forward again, whispering like her words might be enough to keep him tethered here. "You're too damn stubborn to check out like this. You hear me? You're not leaving me, viejo. Not now, not ever."
For a second she swears his fingers twitch against hers. It's faint, almost nothing—but she clings to it like oxygen.
She presses her lips to the back of his hand, eyes squeezed shut. "Just hold on."
The sirens scream louder as the city lights blur past the windows, pulling them closer to the hospital.
By the time the ambulance finally screeches to a halt outside St. Thomas, Giselle's whole body is trembling from holding herself together.
